


Soulmarks

by obviouslyelementary



Series: Star Trek: Enterprise [2]
Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: (thats my headcanon though), (thats the reeds obviously), Abusive Parents, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Fluff and Angst, Homophobia, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Mission Gone Wrong, Romance, Romantic Soulmates, Slow Burn, Soulmates, almost death as usual, also Trip has a thousand sisters so dont come at me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-12 05:13:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29005098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/obviouslyelementary/pseuds/obviouslyelementary
Summary: It was just his luck that the Reeds weren't expected to have such marks, for he hid it well, deciding from that day forward that he would never show it to anyone at all.
Relationships: Charles "Trip" Tucker III/Other(s), Jonathan Archer & Charles "Trip" Tucker III, Malcolm Reed/Charles "Trip" Tucker III, Malcolm Reed/Other(s)
Series: Star Trek: Enterprise [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2119128
Comments: 16
Kudos: 30





	1. The Reeds

**Author's Note:**

> This popped into my head and wouldn't leave so here it is. Might have a continuation who knows.  
> Also in my headcanon Trip has a bunch of siblings so in this case he has 3 sisters and one brother.

The Reed family was nothing short than an extremely traditional bunch. For the twenty second century, they were at least three centuries behind, having more prejudice running through their veins than marine blood. The women in the Reed family, both born and attached, were always good ladies of the home, rarely working, rarely making a life for their own. Some that had strayed away from said path were forgotten by the family, and some others that had earned the family's respects were still mostly treated as ladies of the home whenever possible. The men, on the other hand, were usually army men, from the marine most likely, but also from the military and aeronautics. Few had thrifted off from path, even less decided on not usual careers. It was quite the pressure, for all involved, and for the new generation it was no different.

Malcolm, however, had always felt out of place. His fear of water, of drowning, together with his fascination for space, showed to his family ever since he was little that maybe he wouldn't go exactly as planned. But it sure didn't help when, for the first time in the Reed history, he developed what was called a soulmark.

Not all humans were born with soulmarks, those being tattoo-like writings on their skin, showing the name of whoever the universe had marked to one as their perfect partner. The Reed family, either by coincidence or universe prank, had never been known to have such marks, at least not to Malcolm's knowledge. His appeared when he was fifteen, around the age where all humans got them, and being a Reed as he was, it was quite a surprise.

One that he certainly was not eager to share, when he put his eyes in the namesake written on his wrist.

Clumsy letters, yellow-ish colored, the name spelled out like a curse on his skin. For if there was something the Reed men weren't, that something was a homosexual. And the name in his arm... he had never known a girl named 'Charles' or having a 'third' on her last name before.

It was just his luck that the Reeds weren't expected to have such marks, for he hid it well, deciding from that day forward that he would never show it to anyone at all. Sure, the fact that it was written in yellow was better than having it written in black, but it was still visible to any watchful eye, and he was not about to let his parents know of it. No, he would keep this secret, and hopefully take it to his grave. After all, there was no assurance that he would ever get to meet his soulmate, and then maybe he would never have to confront his biggest fear.

That was also the time he decided to begin trying to date girls, despite his previous disinterest in them. Before that mark appeared on his wrist, he had believed his lack of interest was a result of his focus on getting used to water, or maybe his age, but now he was worried his problem laid elsewhere. He had never once fancied another boy, or anyone else by that matter, but he still couldn't help the uneasy feeling that settle in his stomach now that he knew the universe had made a match for him, and that match was not his typical lady. No, it was a guy, named Charles Tucker the Third. It did not settle well with him.

So, he began to try and find ways of getting himself used to the idea of dating girls. It wasn't a hard feat, to find interested parties. He was a Reed, he was handsome, and he was smart. The girls seemed to like that. However, no matter how much he tried, his relationships never seemed to last more than a few months, always ending up in disaster. The most usual complaint (since he was never the one to finish a relationship) was his lack of attention, his constant distractions, how he seemed to love the sea more than his girlfriends. Honestly, the sea and the girls he dated were in the same level of importance, with just space above it, but he would not let that spill out of his lips anytime soon. After all, his parents did not even know he was considering applying to Starfleet, and they would disown him the moment he did.

The girls themselves were merely distractions, something else he had to grow used to, like the water he feared so much. It wasn't pleasant, it was more like duty than enjoyment, but his parents seemed happy and they never once questioned his girlfriends. His father attributed the lack of extensive relationships to his 'natural need for more challenge', while his mother couldn't care less about how many girls she had to make food to. She was just happy he was bringing them home.

His sister, however, was more attentive to details, and being curious and gentle as she was, began to question him about his relationships.

"Malcolm, you don't look happy" she said, as she always did when he brought his new girlfriend home. He shrugged at her, reading over some of the old Marine battles in the books his father had, but her insistent hand laid on his shoulder and he sighed, turning to face her.

"Mad, I'm fine" he said, looking at her, convincing her of nothing even though it was true. "We like each other, and that is what matters."

"She may like you, Mal, but you don't like her. I know how it is to like someone, I know how it feels, I know how it looks. You don't like her."

"I will learn how to like her" he replied, pushing his sister's hand away and turning back to his book. That, however, was a mistake. As he pushed her hand away, he allowed his wrist to be uncovered, and that was sight enough for his attentive sister to catch a glimpse of the sunshine yellow on his wrist.

She grabbed his hand with ease, pulling it towards her and pushing the sleeve away, just before his brain registered and he tried to push her away.

The damage, however, had been done. He pulled the sleeve back over his wrist, but when he looked up, ashamed and scared, her eyes were wide and it was clear they held some heavy guilt and pity on them.

"Mal..." she whispered, but now he was angry and hurt. She had no right.

"Get out of my room. NOW!" he yelled, he never yelled, specially not at his sister, but this time he did, and she rushed out of his room like a flash, closing the door. Malcolm held his wrist tightly, wishing he could just erase that name from it, but knowing he couldn't he just felt his eyes watering in shame. He rubbed them hard to stop those tears, knowing that no Reed should ever cry for something so silly, and turned back to his text books, needing some distraction.

If he was lucky enough, she would pretend to never have seen it.

\------------------------------

Applying to Starfleet without his parents knowing was easy: getting through wasn't. When the results came in, he knew he would have to let them know one way or another, and the uneasiness in his stomach didn't settle until he did. He was scared, yes, although he would never admit it, because no Reed had ever given up on the Marine life for space, like he would. But he was ready to face the consequences.

"Congratulations" was all his father said, when he told his family during dinner. He was just a week away from having to report to San Francisco, already packed and with money to leave as soon as he should. He would not let his parents stop him, although they didn't seem inclined to.

His mother barely voiced a thought, both of them returning to their dishes as if he had said nothing of importance, and that was when he knew he would not care for a moment about leaving his family behind. His sister gave him a smile and a tap on the shoulder, but didn't say anything else in front of their parents. Later on, she gave him a tight hug and celebrated in his room, allowing him to drink from her favorite wine while they told stories about their childhood at sea.

"I'm happy for you Mal" she said, softly, after they were settled and sleepy, both laying comfortably on his bed. "You will do great in space. I'm sure of it."

"So am I" he said, honestly, and looked at her, sharing a grin with her out of pure happiness. "I'm going to be an admiral someday, I promise you."

"The first space admiral Reed. I like that" she said, turning to her side and pulling him for a tight hug again. He hugged her back, and they enjoyed the moment in silence, until she spoke again. "I know you don't want to talk about this, Mal, and you never will... but if you ever meet your soulmate... give him a chance."

Her whisper was so heartfelt and sincere that his heart leaped, and he allowed himself to think, for a second, that maybe he could be happy with the man the universe had chose for him. The thought drifted off quickly, shut down by years of repression and prejudice, but for those seconds it was nice to wonder where in the world was mister Charles Tucker the Third was, what was he doing, what was he thinking... for those seconds, he allowed himself to imagine.

And then it was gone.

\----------------------------------------

It wasn't until he was in his last years of Starfleet Academy, training to be the best tactical officer in the fleet, that he allowed some of his deepest thoughts to come out and play. There, he met several people that just like him, had soulmarks and shared them with no shame. Some people he met even had names that weren't written in common language, some with intricate designs, others with blocky symbols. Those were the ones Malcolm found most curious, for most of them had joined Starfleet in hopes of meeting their space-soulmates, as if that would ever be possible.

Still, Malcolm realized, there were many dreamers left on Earth.

After a few years of that, he became comfortable with showing some more skin, not that afraid of people seeing the mark on his arm. Of course, he didn't show it around like some people did, but most of his friends assured him that Charles was a fairly common name, as was Tucker, and that the probability of anyone knowing his soulmate was very slim, so he shouldn't be so afraid of it. It was also around that time when he began to allow himself to think about his own gender more fondly, having a few but remarkable relationships with some of his classmates, all men, slowly letting go of years of phobia that he was not proud of. He knew he would have to live with many different types of people throughout his Starfleet career, so he was beginning to let himself go now, sure that he would find a comfortable way of living.

And for sure, being with men was far more pleasurable to him than being with women.

He didn't allow himself too much fun, however, because he still wished to finish best of his class. He had heard of some possible deep space exploration programs coming around, and there was no way he would pass that opportunity. If he had left a steady career as a Marine behind, it was to make himself a big Starfleet officer. So, he climbed up the ranks with ease, expertise and practice, using all he knew to his advantage, and even surpassing some of his teachers' and superior officers' expectations. He was the best tactical officer in the fleet, and that was what they needed.

When their first deep space mission came around, and he received the request to be the Enterprise's tactical officer and chief armory officer from none other than captain Archer himself, Malcolm couldn't say he was surprised, but he was surely pleased. He accepted it right away, making his bags and heading to Jupiter station in a rush, like any good Englishman would do. In the shuttlepod he took, he was surrounded by Enterprise personal, some from his team and others from several different teams. He was more than excited, although his face probably just showed blankness. He was not one to show his emotions.

Upon arrival at the station, they were told to head over to the ship and begin their work while the captain finished some business back on Earth. It was clear that they were leaving before schedule, much to Malcolm's uneasiness due to the lack of phase canons, but he was ready to aid his captain in all the ways he could. He began his first day by making a meeting with all the armory and security personal, letting them know each other, and then began his work around the ship. There were many things he wanted to fix before the captain arrived.

And fix them he did. In just a few days, the captain was back at the ship and they were off, heading towards a planet called Kronos to deliver a Klingon back to his people. It was quite a first mission for Starfleet, and it was clear all of them were nervous and excited, and although he would never admit it, Malcolm was excited to try out the torpedoes in case of an emergency.

But he would hope that they would find no issue whatsoever.

Right in the first day, a few hours after they left the station, the captain made a meeting with all senior officers so they would get to know each other. Some of them hadn't seen each other face to face just yet, and Malcolm agreed that it was good to know someone face to face instead of just over files.

And if he was being honest, he hadn't gotten around to the personal files just yet. From all the crew he knew the captain, the helmsman and his crew, no one else.

So, they arrived at the situation room and gathered around the map of the ship, the captain standing by one of the edges. He smiled at them, although seeming uncomfortable over the vulcan's glance.

"I want to first say... welcome to Enterprise. I know most of you are more acquainted with her than I am, but I would still like to welcome you all the same. It will be our home for a few days, hopefully longer if our mission succeeds. So, I want you all to get used to the environment, to the crew, to every part of the ship. To me as well. Feel free to come to me if you ever need advice, or if you have any recommendation or suggestion. I'm all ears.

"Now we will begin the introductions. I am Jonathan Archer, your captain, as you well know. To my right is my subcommander, T'Pol. She was assigned by the Vulcans to assist and watch over us, as you all probably excepted" he said, slightly dry, but T'Pol did not seem to care, simply giving a nod to the rest. "My communicating officer, ensign Hoshi Sato, and next to her, ensign Travis Mayweather, our helmsman. Doctor Phlox next, he is a denobulan from a medical exchange program. Malcolm Reed, our tactical officer and chief armory officer, and next to me, Charles Tucker the Third, my chief engineer, and my second in command..."

Archer continued to speak, although Malcolm's ears seemed to begin to ring, his eyes drifting off. For a second he allowed himself a glimpse at the man next to the captain, the so said chief engineer, Charles Tucker the Third. Upon hearing, thinking that name, it was like his wrist began burning, and he shifted his arms towards his back to hold it tight, somehow hoping that the name on his skin would disappear. Out of all the places they could ever meet... he looked back at the captain a second later, upon seeing the man's blank expression, hoping he was either lucky enough not to have a corresponding name on his soulmate, or that he was too much of an idiot to realize anything. Malcolm Reed was a fairly common name, maybe he had found many in his life time. Who knew?

Malcolm forced himself to focus on the captain's voice again, having lost a bunch of his speech, cursing himself for it. His father would not have been pleased if he knew.

"... I'm hoping we will form friendships here, that we will get used with each other. Now, I would like all of you to assume your posts, because we have some busy days ahead of us. Doctor, let me know if anything changes with our patient."

"You can count on me, captain" Phlox quickly responded, and Archer gave him a smile and a nod.

"Dismissed."

The senior officers rushed around the place, returning to their posts, and Malcolm was glad that he could make his way as far away from the bridge as he could, heading over to the armory office to get the weapons recalibrated. He had decided then that he would stay as far away from Charles Tucker the Third as he could, and wait until it was absolutely necessary to speak with him to do so. He would not make a fool of himself, nor he would allow the new set of butterflies in his stomach to drift his mind away from his mission. The captain needed him at his best, and he would have him at his peak efficiency.

And no universe prank would make any difference.


	2. The Tuckers

Charles Tucker the Third was born in a nice little small town in the country side of Florida, USA. He was the middle child of a huge ass family, five siblings in total, a houseful. The Tuckers were a nice family, extended beyond belief, filled with cousins and aunts and uncles all over the place, making life very much agitated from start to finish.

Trip, as Charles was always called, was one of the most quiet ones, although it was hard to believe. While his siblings were wild and always played and had fun on the many farms their family had, Trip was always one to study and watch the stars at night, always fascinated by the stories of the Vulcans, the first aliens to come to Earth. He constantly watched the news to see if there was anything new, he studied starships and all they had available on spacecrafts (wasn't much, but he managed). His parents even became worried sometimes, specially towards his social skills, but he never failed on making people around him feel welcome and happy. He was a precious young child, and all uncles, aunts and cousins loved him quite dearly, and so did his siblings.

They were also a long family tree of soulmarked. Almost all Tuckers had had their loved one chosen by the universe written in their wrist, and it began a long time a go, with Trip's great great great great great great uncle Joe. At least, that was what the stories told.

His parents had been chosen by fate, and had always been happy no matter what. Trip saw their love as something to reach, he wanted that happiness for himself too. When his older sister turned sixteen, her mark appeared, and the family had a huge party to celebrate. She was paired with the most beautiful name Trip had ever heard, Melissa Dias, and he couldn't wait to see his sister's wedding with her one day. His second older sister got her name when she was fourteen, and by that time, Trip was thirteen and waiting excitedly for his own turn.

But of course the universe had to play a joke on him, waiting until he was seventeen to show who he had been paired with.

In the day of his seventeen years old birthday, he woke up sleepy and yawning. The house was silent, extremely so, but he was too used to his family to know that something was obviously happening. He took his time though, getting up, stretching, opening the curtain to get some sun rays inside, checking his wrist of a name, reading the name, turning towards his closet to change...

Wait.

His eyes widened and he looked down again, staring at his wrist for a full minute before a grin cut his face, wide enough that his cheeks hurt. He let out a yelp, one his father would be proud of, and forgot about the clothes and his hygiene, running out of his bedroom through the quiet, empty looking house.

"I GOT A NAME!"

He arrived at the kitchen, beaming, and his whole family popped up from behind the counter where they had been hiding with a cake and some loud noise making toys, their eyes widening. They began cheering right there, his mom placing the huge cake on the table while his siblings ran to his side, the smaller ones Lizzie and John reaching for his arm to look at the name while the other two wrapped their arms around him, laughing and checking for his wrist as well.

"Who is the lucky one to spend the rest of their life with my boy?" his father asked, warm voice making Trip giggle and blush, pulling his arm away from his siblings and showing it to him. His mother came to look as well, both of them reading the name and smiling at him.

"Malcolm Reed... what a handsome name" his mother said, her tender and soft voice making him smile proudly. She kissed his head, the house going silent with her gentle manners. "I think this means a celebration is in order, don't you?"

"I couldn't agree more, my love" his father said, ruffling Trip's hair as he chuckled, looking down at the name on his wrist, tracing the fine cursive with his finger. Malcolm Reed. The letters were nicely written, filled with small curves and pretty adds, in a fiery red that showed much more than the letter itself.

His birthday was celebrated, together with his new name, and they were all happy for him. Lizzie and John kept wondering who their soulmate would be, looking down at their wrists as if they would show up at any time. But Trip couldn't blame them, since he was doing the same, spending the whole day watching over his wrist, as if the name would disappear at any time.

It didn't matter if it did, honestly. The name was written on his brain like a mantra, 'Malcolm Reed'. He would look to the ends of the earth for that man, wherever he was, and he would be with him. He already loved him beyond words could express.

His heart was filled up to the brim with love.

\----------------------

When he decided to go to Starfleet, the only thing his parents demanded were constant updates. They wouldn't move to San Francisco, Florida was their home, and they assured him they would miss him a lot, but they were proud of their new space son, as they liked to call him. Trip remembered crying the whole night long before the shuttle came to pick him up, he remembered Lizzie and John begging him not to go and stay with them, but he knew that was his destiny, he knew he wanted to live among the stars.

He walked inside the shuttle, waved to his parents and siblings, and the ship took flight towards San Francisco, where they would land and he would be the first of the Tuckers in Starfleet business. He would work hard to become the best engineer in the fleet, always his dream, and he was decided to work on Starfleet's biggest projects, no matter what they were. He wanted to meet the Vulcans face to face, he wanted to explore new worlds and meet new species, he wanted Earth to succeed in all of its affairs, and he wanted to be included in that.

So once he was in Starfleet headquarters, he studied hard, and worked his way up the ranks as quickly as he could, to one day become chief engineer of one of their vessels.

Being very honest, it didn't take long for Trip to be assigned to a starship. By that time, their explorations were limited to their solar system and a few systems around, mostly due to the Vulcans not deeming them ready for any deep space exploration, but even so Trip was excited. He was assigned as ensign to one of the many vessels in the fleet, right on the engineering department, and did so great at his job that he received a commendation for a promotion just a year after said assignment, something unheard of in the fleet by that point. He was then placed in the NX project, where he met none other than Jonathan Archer, the man that would become his best friend for years to come.

Jon and he went along well from the first day forwards. They became quick friends while he was a lieutenant and Jon was a commanding officer, both working their asses off to get the NX project to continue despite its failed attempts. They became comfortable around each other, attached to the hip, and even went a little further than expected for two close friends and ranked officers. So yes, they knew each other far too well.

It was no surprise, then, that one day, they were talking in the comfort of Jon's quarters, when they started to speak about the names on their wrists.

Jon was the one that began the subject, because of a single fact: the name on his wrist was not from Earth. The letters were something Trip had never seen before, it was written in vertical rather than horizontal, and they were more close to drawings than letters, all curves and dots and circles.

"I have no idea what that is, do you?" Trip asked, because he had never seen anything like it, and in such a deep shade of blue that fit beautifully on Jon's skin. The man stared down at the name, for a few seconds, and then looked back at Trip.

"For all I know, it's Vulcan" he said, and Trip winced. Oh, he understood that feeling all too well. After Jon's father's deal with the Vulcans, it was no wonder why such a name would make him feel bad. "I don't know what it means though, and I'm not about to ask any Vulcan for a translation."

"I thought Vulcans had normal names. Like, with many Ts and Ks... but we can usually write them down" Trip said, confused, but Archer shook his head.

"For what I know, those are their second names. Their first names are often unspeakable, or that's what they say" Jon rolled his eyes and covered his wrist again with his sleeve, looking at Trip. "You have a normal name, don't you? A human one?"

"Yep" Trip popped the p sound nicely, unable to stop his grin as he pulled his sleeve away and showed it to Archer. He had seen it before, but they had never talked about it. "Malcolm Reed. Innit a handsome name?"

"It's very... British" Jon said, chuckling as he read it, reaching out to trace it lightly. "Fiery red... an interesting color."

"Momma was worried 'bout it when she first saw it. Never told me though, not until I was grown up enough" Trip said, looking down at the name as well. "They say the color of the name represents the type of soul... I guess I'm gettin' a hot headed one."

"I wonder what is my color..." Jon mumbled, and then looked at Trip, something seeming to click in his head. "Wait... so that means there is a Vulcan out there with a human name on their wrist?"

"Yeah most likely. Unmatched soulmarks are rare" Trip nodded, and he saw a smirk curling up on Jon's face. "Well someone looks happier now."

"I mean, isn't it funny, to imagine a Vulcan with Jonathan Archer written on their wrist? They are probably suffering way more than I am" he chuckled, and Trip shook his head with a smirk of his own.

"Oh that is mean, mister Archer. Wishing your soulmate's disgrace. The universe won't be happy."

"Oh to hell with the universe" Jon groaned, rolling his eyes and reaching for the beer that had been sitting next to them all this time. "I didn't want a Vulcan name on my wrist, and I bet whoever has mine didn't wish for it either."

"You are right about that" Trip agreed, leaning back o the chair and looking down at his wrist again, biting his bottom lip. They became quiet as they thought, and Trip couldn't help but wonder if Jon's feelings were valid. He had heard, although rarely, of soulmates that didn't work, that never clicked. He had heard of soulmarks that weren't matched, of people who never wanted to have soulmarks in the first place. His stomach seemed to flip a little at that thought, sink down his belly. He had never once imagined his soulmate wouldn't love him back, but what if he didn't?

The uneasiness took over Trip and he hated it, taking a large sip of his beer and trying to forget about it.

No, his soulmate would love him, like his parents loved each other. Like he always dreamt of.

That was the truth.

\------------------------

When they were assigned to the Enterprise, Trip and Jon held a party at Jon's flat. They drank all night long, yelled and laughed, they were so happy about it. The first starship to go into a deep space mission was all theirs, and they couldn't be happier.

A few months later, Jon called Trip saying he was needed in Jupiter Station, because something had come up and they would leave in a hurry, way before the schedule date. Trip was thrilled, packing his bags and heading over the station right away, sending his parents and siblings one last goodbye through comm link before getting his work gear and diving head in.

Many of the systems in the ship needed fixing up, and he was needed almost 24/7. He was glad though, excited to get going, to head into space as chief engineer under his best friend's command. Who would have guessed, him, in his thirties, heading into uncharted space?

Jon arrived at the ship a few days later, when all but a few systems were left to fix up. He talked to Trip before they left, explaining the situation, where they were going and specially about T'Pol, their Vulcan infiltrated. Neither of them were happy about it, but Jon seemed to understand the situation, because they needed someone to help with the Vulcan charts and she was not a member of any of the many Vulcan factions, which was better than anything.

Still, neither of them were very happy about the arrangement.

The ship went off to its mission a few hours after that small meeting, and Archer decided it would be better for all senior officers to get to know each other. He scheduled a meeting in the situation room, all officers surrounding the enterprise map, and began doing his little speech as Trip was so used to. Then, he began to introduce all senior officers, starting with the Vulcan T'Pol, then Hoshi, Travis Mayweather, doctor Phlox, and then chief of armory and tactical officer Malcolm Reed.

Malcolm Reed?!

Trip was aware he was a very expressive person, so he focused all his attention on the bulkhead in front of him, on the other side of the room, and did not stare for a second at the man named Malcolm Reed. He remained impassive until Archer dismissed all of them to their stations, but Trip was quicker and requested a quick talk with his captain in his ready room.

To everyone else, Archer seemed calm and curious. But Trip could see the god damned twitch of his lips, and Trip knew he knew what he had done. Once they were inside the ready room, Archer closed the door and stared at him with his most fake serious face.

"Yes, commander?"

"Don't rank me you little shit. You know what you've done" Trip said, exasperated, but Jon simply tilted his head, his eyes ruining his fake confusion.

"What are you on about, Trip?"

"Malcolm Reed? You serious Jon? And you didn't even think of telling me?" Trip asked, somewhat breathless. He knew his face was probably red by now. Jon was unable to hold back any longer, letting out a deep laugh.

"Trip, I gave you all the personal files!"

"You knew I wouldn't have time to check all of them, I only checked my team! Armory officer Malcolm Reed is not of my team!" Trip said, walking over and getting a glass of water. Archer snorted, sitting down while Trip did the same. "I can't believe this... I can't believe you did this to me. Is he at least qualified?"

"Trip" Jon said, turning serious "he is the best tactical officer of all Starfleet. I would not jeopardize our mission for your sake. It just so happens that he is the best and the name on your wrist, not my fault."

"I believe you, although I know you are teasing me too" Trip said, drinking down the water as if he had spent three days without it, sighing and putting the glass down. "What do I do?!"

"Talk to him? Maybe?" Jon suggested, receiving a stare from Trip. "What? He is your soulmate after all."

"You said there were a bunch of Malcolm Reeds in the world" he said, looking down at his wrist for a second. "What if you got the wrong one?"

"The universe doesn't do those things Trip, you know that. Or else, people would have had alien names on their wrists since the beginning of human civilization, which didn't happen" Jon said, and Trip narrowed his eyes before smirking.

"You mean that maybe that Vulcan that was assigned to us..."

"I did not say that Trip."

"Have you seen her Vulcan name?"

"No Trip, and I will not. She is my subcommander."

"Look who is trying to fool destiny..."

"You are dismissed" Jon said, all cranky, and Trip grinned like he had won a prize, standing up and nodding.

"I'll be in mah station captain" he said, making his way out of the ready room.

Malcolm Reed...

He wondered.


	3. Last chance

Missions came, missions went, and the Enterprise was now a new ship, surrounded by unknown space. They had been at it for months, and somehow, in the midst of all that mess, Malcolm had been able to avoid all and every uncomfortable situations with mister Charles Tucker the Third. Even when they were stuck together for days in that mission that went horribly wrong, where they both thought they would die, Malcolm avoided talking about anything other than the many girlfriends he had had, while the chief engineer had been more busy about trying to make them survive – and succeeding. In the end, it seemed as if he didn't wish to speak about it either, giving Malcolm the impression that perhaps they weren't matched, perhaps there was another Charles Tucker the Third somewhere in the galaxy for him to find.

Unlikely, but possible.

Trip, on the other hand, was in fact feeling more and more detached from Malcolm as the months passed by. They developed a nice friendship and were relying on each other more often than either thought they would, however the British man never brought up his mark at all, and Trip had never seen it for himself. Not even a glimpse. He was beginning to imagine that he had the wrong Malcolm Reed, or that he was unmatched, up until they day a mission of recognition and geological exploration left them both on decon for hours.

Being in decon, not only they had to stay on their underwear, but they also had to help each other with the god damned gel. Malcolm had been dreading that day, where he would spend more than enough time with Tucker inside decon alone, and he knew it would come eventually, but he still feared it. Unlike Malcolm, Trip wasn't as careful about his clothing or anything really, making his wrist often show off. He never told anyone the name written on it, but the fiery red was clear enough for anyone to know he had a mark, which didn't make Malcolm's life any easier. However, he never pried or looked, in fear of actually finding his name written on the man's wrist.

But now, there wasn't much he could do.

In the blue light, the yellow on his skin reflected a nice green, not very bright but easier to see than in normal light. He avoided showing his wrist, carefully so it wouldn't look deliberate, although every single movement was calculated to the smallest of angles. Trip, however, did not seen half as careful, and Malcolm couldn't stop his eyes from wondering to the now purple-ish mark on his skin.

It didn't help either that the simple fact of knowing his name made Malcolm feel weak on his knees. Yes, he had had experiences with men before, some he regretted but most that he found way more pleasurable than any relationships he had had with women, and maybe it wasn't his fault but he indeed found men more attractive in every way. He didn't know how that worked for mister Tucker, but it also didn't matter. The man's tall, large complex was enough to make Malcolm's mouth water even if he didn't mean to, and right now it was no different.

Trip pulled his top off, putting it down on the bench, turning with his back towards Malcolm. He swallowed thickly, getting some gel on his hands and beginning to massage it down the man's back, avoiding all and every thought in his head, about how firm his muscles were, how hot his skin felt to his fingers, how broad and big he seemed... Malcolm pushed it all away, focusing on pushing the gel as deep in the skin as he could so it would make effect quickly and he would be taken out of that prison.

Soon it was his turn, and he moved to show his back to Trip, taking off his own shirt and letting the man work. He put some gel on his hands, arms and stomach while Trip worked on his back, his firm grip doing pretty much the same, pushing the gel in. There was nothing sexual about it, or sensual, or anything at all, at least Malcolm was trying to convince himself of that. Luckily, it was over before long, and both got in front of the bench to rub their own legs.

That was when the talk started.

"So Mal" Trip started, always the talking type. Malcolm could stay hours without talking, but Trip couldn't go minutes. "I noticed you have a faint mark on your wrist. Is it a scar or somethin'?"

Malcolm knew what he was doing. Trip knew too, by the look of his face. They finished rubbing he gel on their legs and sat down, Malcolm knowing there was still plenty of time in decon. He had to find a way out of that conversation.

"No, not really" he responded, vaguely, pretending to be calm as he closed his eyes and relaxed. His wrists were very well hidden away from Trip's sight. "You have a soulmark don't you?"

"Yeah... mine's hard not to see" he chuckled, leaning back, relaxing next to Malcolm. "Whoever it is has a fiery personality. Red as all hells."

"You should watch out. For all I know, red is not a good color for a soulmate" Malcolm said, opening his eyes and looking at his friend. Maybe if he drifted the subject towards Trip, he wouldn't suspect anything. Tucker looked back at him and shrugged.

"I don' think so. There's a bunch of misconceptions about colors. My mom's color is orange and she's the calmest person I know" he said, and Malcolm felt curious now, and saw a glimpse of an escape.

"Your mother has one too?" he asked, and Trip looked at him, seeming confused.

"Yeah, of course. Isn't it kinda genetic? Both my parents have it" he said, chuckling. "So do all mah siblings. Mine showed up when I was seventeen."

"You are right, I have read it somewhere that they are genetic" Malcolm nodded. "A dominant trait, if I'm not mistaken."

"Yep. Soon everyone in the world will have it" Trip said proudly but Malcolm chuckled.

"Six fingers are also dominant and few people have those" he said, tilting his head. He wondered then, the chances that he would have a soulmark. Both his parents and his sister, together with all his family, none of them had it. Either his mom cheated, and he was not his father's son, or he was just very unlucky in the genetic sense.

"Well... you're right" Trip said, tilting his head and looking at Malcolm. "So. Do your parents have them?"

"No. My whole family is markless" he said, hoping that would bring Trip's curiosity about his own wrist down. It did seem to deflate him a little, but he just shrugged and smiled.

"Well then you won the jackpot. I'm pretty sure that mark on your wrist is a soulmark" he said, now pushing it, and Malcolm stared at him before chuckling. If he acted calm, maybe then...

"You are correct. It is a soulmark. Although I don't consider I won on anything. I wish I didn't have it."

Trip then seemed to get somehow offended, or frustrated, while Malcolm raised an eyebrow at him. He opened his arm to contest, closed it, and opened it again, his face turning somewhat purple-ish. He was blushing.

"You should never say that, mister Reed!" he said, exasperated, and even Malcolm was a bit taken back. "Soulmarks are a gift! Your perfect partner in the whole ass universe! You shouldn't dismiss it like something bad! My momma always said that's sacrilege! That's why she never complained about my name being red!"

"I'm sorry mister Tucker" Malcolm said, sincerely. "I did not mean to offend. It is just... my family is very conservative and we have never had anyone with marks before. I don't think they would appreciate it very much."

"Why? Is it an alien?" Trip asked, now openly trying to see it, but Malcolm kept it hidden.

"No, they just don't believe in soulmates" he said, firmly, keeping his arm away from view. Trip gasped, even more offended. This wasn't going well.

"How can't they?! Soulmates are the most beautiful thing!"

Malcolm was about to disagree when Phlox's voice sounded in the comm link.

"Gentlemen, you are completely decontaminated. You may leave the room at your earliest convenience" he said, and Malcolm quickly stood up, putting on his top and looking at Trip, who had barely moved.

"Sorry commander. Duty calls" he said, rushing out of the decon room and heading towards his quarters for a much needed shower.

His wrist, however, continued to itch.

\------------------------

Trip had been unsure at first, believing Malcolm's unwillingness to talk about his mark had been out of simple British mannerism, that weird thing Europeans had where they simply did not share their feelings with strangers. But after the talk in decon, he was sure Reed was hiding something, and he was tired of waiting around for him to decide if they should talk or not.

Truth was, either the man was simply the most awkward human being Trip had ever encountered (because he wasn't ready just yet to take that out of the possibility list) or he was hiding the most obvious secret of all: that they were soulmates. From the few and far between talks they had had about his parents, Trip could make up a fairly good picture of the Reed household: typical, traditional family, no soulmarks, no depth, no real care between them. Malcolm and his sister seemed close enough, but his parents seemed distant at best, abusive at worst. It was clear to him that Malcolm did not have the best relationship with his folks, something Trip couldn't begin to imagine how it would be, and that seemed to affect him more than he realized. That, together with several other hints (such as the enormous list of past girlfriends he had spoken to at shuttlepod one) painted a picture of some discomfort to Trip.

If they were soulmates, if they were indeed connected, then maybe Malcolm didn't feel comfortable around him because he was a man. And that... did not settle very well with Trip.

Yes, the twenty second century was way better in relation to the ones that came before, but that did not mean everyone had lost their bigotry. Somehow, racist, xenophobic, homophobic people still existed, despite how many years went by, and Trip was beginning to think that Malcolm could be one of those.

He wouldn't lie and say he wasn't surprised to see, on his seventeen year old birthday, the name of a man written on his wrist. Many a times he had imagined a beautiful family with a beautiful Floridian girl, with his name written on her arm, several children running around the yard. Yet, this discovery did not make him any less excited about his partner, and his parents never once looked at him the wrong way. Damn it, his own father had had boyfriends before he met his mother, and his own older sister had a girl as her soulmate. Things were changing, for better, and Trip didn't really want to think that was the reason Malcolm didn't want to acknowledge their arrangement.

There was, of course, another simple and plain explanation: their line of work. From the months they had worked together, Trip had discovered Malcolm to be an extremely ethical man, and that meant over everything. His ideal command was harsh and merciless, probably a result of his upbringing in a family of marine officers, and he often found Archer's command lacking and loose. Therefore, it would be no surprise if he was nervous because Trip was his superior officer, although not directly, unless he was given the bridge. That would result in direct subordination, something that most officers avoided having with partners. That he could understand, although Starfleet rules in case of soulmates was clear: they were allowed to serve on the same vessel, as direct subordinates, unless any problems were seen. Then, it would be the highest officer's job to request a transfer, allowing the lower ranking officer to remain at their post, unless wished otherwise. It was a smart plan, specially since it made it fair for everyone. But Trip was sure they would run into no problems, that he would just love and support his soulmate no matter who they were.

Malcolm could not have that same vision, though.

Still, Trip decided that enough was enough. One day, after several weeks of the decontamination episode, he decided he had had enough. He requested Malcolm's presence in his quarters after their shift to work on some engine-armory problems, all excuses to have the man show up. He readied himself for a talk that for sure wouldn't be pleasant, remembering how his mother seemed to tense up whenever his father fucked up, and decided right there and then that it would be the last time he would try to talk to Malcolm. If he didn't want to acknowledge the fact that they were soulmates... he never would have to, ever again.

It was close to the time Trip had requested his presence at his quarters when the comm link beeped, signaling a message coming through.

_'Captain Archer to all senior officers, meet me in the situations room.'_

Oh wonderful.

Just perfect.

\----------------------

For some reason, Malcolm was relieved when the captain called them for a meeting. Despite having nothing wrong with Trip calling him for afterhours working, he had sensed that something about it was different this time, and was more than glad to have escaped it. By the time he made it to the situations room, he was the last one to arrive, and Archer began to talk about the new mission they were about to face.

"The distress call is requesting immediate attention. Luckily, we are just a few minutes away from their vessel. They have just been attacked, so it is fair to assume that the attackers are still nearby. Our scans show unknown firepower, which means we could be facing a number of threats. For what we know they have several casualties, therefore I am sending Trip, Malcolm and Phlox to their ship to tend the wounded and get their systems back online. The rest of us will cover you with Enterprise to the best of our abilities, and try to talk with the attackers. Hopefully we can stop his fight with no more firepower. I want you three on the shuttlepod in ten minutes, no more. Take just the essentials. Dismissed."

Rarely Archer spoke with so much decisiveness, so all the officers were quick to nod and rush to their posts. Malcolm ran to the armory to get them their weapons, Phlox headed over to sickbay for his med kits, and Trip returned to engineering to get all the tools. Once they were ready they left to the shuttle bay, getting inside their shuttle and launching it the moment Archer told them they were clear. The ship seemed badly damaged, but there was no sign of any other vessel in the facility, which made them even more tense, since it was probably cloaked. Cloaked or not, however, they reached the other ship, attaching their shuttle to it and putting their EV suits before heading inside.

The doors to the other ship opened, and they were immediately hit by smoke. They made their way through it, the ship silent except for alarms and the sound of fire burning components all around them, relays exploding and sparks flying. Malcolm went first, gun ready to shoot, while Trip and Phlox followed behind. The ship was small, the walls orange, but otherwise it seemed fairly similar to theirs. They made their way through the smokey corridors, after a while finding a body in the middle of the rubble.

They kneeled out, Trip and Malcolm covering for the doctor, but he quickly shook his head.

"They are dead."

Malcolm nodded and continued ahead, finding some signs that seemed to indicate parts of the ship. Sadly they hadn't brought Hoshi, but he did have an schematics of the vessel.

"We should go to the bridge, see if we can access any systems from there" he said, receiving a shake of head from Trip.

"Take us to engineering first! We need to contain any possible breach or malfunction" he said, and Malcolm nodded, following the schematics and heading to where he believed was the main reactor. On the way they passed through several alien bodies, most of them dead, but the smoke began to fade away slowly.

Finally they reached a door, and Malcolm opened it by pressing a button on a pad nearby. When it did, it opened to a medium sized reactor, shining bright green, and they made their way inside, several more bodies laying motionless. Phlox began to check on them, discovering most of them alive, and began treating their wounds as Trip and Malcolm focused on the many tasks ahead.

The surrounding space seemed to be quiet, at least for a while. Eventually, the doctor had secured enough bodies to fill up sickbay, and upon noticing their lack of improvement under the bad atmosphere, he requested that the captain sent another shuttle so he could take the injured to Enterprise. The captain considered the request, and in an hour all the aliens of the ship were taken over to sickbay to be treated, while Malcolm and Trip remained behind to access the rest of the crew and fix up the vessel the best they could.

Their first job was to secure main power, which they had completed a few minutes before Phlox left with his patients. Then, they needed to vent out all smoke out into space and return the ship to its natural environment, so that the rest of the crew could survive. That would mean checking several filtration and ventilation systems, making them wonder around the ship, although always together. It did slow the work down, as Trip pointed out, but Malcolm could not be completely sure they wouldn't have themselves a nasty encounter any time soon. So, he watched Trip's back while he fixed all the relays and ventilation systems he needed.

As Trip considered their surroundings, the fact that they weren’t going anywhere, and that everything seemed calm up until this moment, he decided that maybe talking about what they would be talking if they weren't on this mission would be just as good as keeping small talk. So, he broke the ice.

"Were you going to show up?" he asked, just to make sure that he wouldn't start the conversation out of the blue. Malcolm gave him a confused glance for an instant, before giving him the tool he pointed out, the question clicking in his mind.

"Yes, of course. Why wouldn't I?" he asked, because really why wouldn't he? An engineering and armory issue? Those happened all the time, Tucker and he worked together almost daily.

"I don’t know... maybe something was bothering you" Trip mumbled, getting his hands dirty on the converters and sighing. "I mean... you don't like talking about stuff."

"I'm always open to discuss tactical and engineering issues, commander, and you know that" Malcolm said, slightly offended, while Trip gave him a snort and nodded.

"You're right. I'm sorry. But what I was going to discuss with you was something of a more personal matter."

"What do you mean? Any problems with the team?" Malcolm asked, even though he knew very well that was not what Trip was implying. The mark on his wrist began to itch and he cursed himself for losing focus, eyes shifting around the empty corridors.

"No, not the team... more like the head of the sections. I've heard that the chief engineer and chief of armory have some unfinished business" Trip responded, grabbing another tool and fixing up yet another conduct. "Done. Next bulkhead."

"I did not know we had unfinished business, mister Tucker" Malcolm replied, following him as he headed over towards another corridor, this one filled with smoke. They could barely see in front of them, making him feel more on edge. Trip shook his head ahead of him, stopping by the next bulkhead and starting the work once more. Malcolm assumed his stance.

"Of course you didn't. You have the emotional perception of a Vulcan" he said, perhaps quietly to himself, but Malcolm heard him loud and clear. He shifted his eyes to the engineer, who was pulling apart some cables on the wall.

"What do you mean by that?"

"I mean what I mean. That you are blind when it comes to feelings, deaf to all emotions, completely braindead!" Trip said, frustrated, happy that their connective comm links would not stop Malcolm from hearing him, even if he wanted to. Just his luck with EV suits, he could not be ignored.

"Do you really think this is the best moment to talk about this, mister Tucker?" Malcolm asked, somewhat angry, looking around the hallway again and pointing his weapon towards his front. But Trip was going to hold his ground: he had taken his evening away from good ass movies for this, and no mission would stop him.

"Yes I do! Or you would never want to have this conversation ever, Malcolm! And don't you dare lie to me" he complained, completely turning away from the bulkhead, making the tactical officer let out a frustrated gasp. "I know this sounds crazy but I need to know! I need to know if it's my name you have on your wrist!"

"Trip, what in-"

Malcolm didn't have time to finish. The moment he spoke, the ship trembled and waved, sending both officers against the wall, hard. Malcolm groaned, losing his grip on his phaser, while Trip fell down on his ass, all equipment falling around him. They reached for each other almost instinctively, Malcolm pulling Trip to his feet, holding onto the wall as the ship shook once again, conduits exploding around the corridors.

 _"-apt... being att-... commu-... shut-"_ they heard coming from their comm lines, and they immediately knew something was wrong. The ship trembled once more and they rushed through the hallways, trying to return to their shuttle. It wasn't long until another shock wave made one of the ceiling plates collapse, blocking their path together withs several debris, both jumping backwards.

"Maybe there is another way there?!" Trip asked, hopeful, but Malcolm gave a quick glance over the blueprints and shook his head.

"This is the only way out!"

"Great!"

Another conduit exploded right next to them and they moved away quickly, rushing to the opposite side. Deciding to head back to engineering, they made their way through the familiar hallways, all the way down to the reactor, just before the ship waved again, their feet losing ground.

"Turn on your magnetic boots!" Malcolm yelled, always the quick thinker, as they began to float. Both pressed the button on their suits, and were pulled down by the magnets, gluing their feet to the ground. Trip groaned, he always felt queasy on zero gravity missions, but they pressed forwards and continued their walk, the trembles and shock waves continuing. Eventually they reached a section where the gravity plating was online and deactivated their boots, rushing towards engineering, only to find it sealed shut.

"What the hell?" Trip complained, wincing at another exploding conduit. Malcolm reached for his comm button, hoping to reach the ship.

"Officer Reed to Enterprise! We are stuck! We cannot get out! Someone answer!" he yelled, the noise of conduits exploding and metal pieces falling apart making everything chaos. When he received no response, Trip reached out for his hand and pulled him through the hallways, hoping to find somewhere they could protect themselves, maybe contact the captain. He found a room nearby, a storage facility of some kind, and rushed inside, finding a panel not far from the door. He walked to it, trying to connect it with the power they had stablished prior, while Malcolm assisted him in what he needed, watching over the area as the ship continued to seemingly get attacked.

Nothing else could explain the tremors, shakes and bumps.

While Trip tried to fix the communicator however, there was an even bigger shake, and both of them were tossed to the other side of the room. They weren't alone, however, large containers flying right after them, slamming against them and tying them against the wall. Both men let out screams of pain as they were hit, both gasping as the movement stopped, some explosions still being heard on the background. Trip swore he saw white for a second before he was able to look forward again, sure that at least a few of his ribs were broken, the large containers having hit him right on the side. He could barely breathe without a sharp pain going through his body. He turned to look at Malcolm, who did not seem better himself, gasping and wheezing as he tried, pointlessly, to push the containers away.

"You can't... too heavy..." Trip gasped out, groaning as another shot of pain went all over his body. He rested his head against the wall, trying to calm down, adrenaline at a thousand, while Malcolm continued to try and push the thing away. When Trip found strength to look at him again, Malcolm was still at it, his breathing getting weaker and more labored by the second. "Lieutenant Reed that's an order!"

He used all his breath to yell that, but at least Malcolm stopped, breathing hard and gasping for air as he leaned back against the wall. Just by their luck, the ship trembled once more, making the boxes move away enough that they weren't being squished anymore, both falling to the ground with loud complaints of pain. Their immediate thought was to stand up, but neither of them was able to, falling back against the wall.

It wasn't until he coughed some blood that Trip really started to worry.

"I can't... move..." Malcolm mumbled, breathless, and Trip nodded, seeing the splatters of blood on his helmed.

"Me neither... I think... I punctured something..." he mumbled, turning his head to Malcolm, the British man's eyes widening in worry. He reached out for Trip, perhaps to help him, but gasped loudly at a sharp pain on his side and returned to his previous position.

"Fuck!"

"I feel ya" Trip mumbled, sighing shakily and forcing himself to remain awake. The ship was still trembling lightly now, probably due to some secondary explosions. It wasn't good. "How do you feel?"

"I can't feel my legs" Malcolm mumbled, looking down at them, being able to move it a bit. "Oh thank god..."

"At least you didn't... break your spine..." Trip chuckled, closing his eyes and hissing softly. "Mal... can I ask you something?"

"Sure..." he said, turning his face towards Trip, and the American did the same, both staring at each other.

"Is it my name written on your arm?"

Malcolm seemed to consider the question for a while, furrowing his eyebrows and then sighing, shifting his position slightly and groaning when it ached. He returned his gaze towards Trip once he found a better position, unable to look away from him.

"Why do you want to know so bad?" Malcolm mumbled, closing his eyes for a second and then opening them again. "If we die, what difference does it make?"

"All difference" Trip said, softly, biting his bottom lip and reaching for his wrist, touching it gently. "I would not forgive myself from dying... without knowing if I ever found my soulmate."

Malcolm stared at him for a long time, what felt like an eternity, before his head bowed down slowly, signaling a small but gentle nod. He then returned his gaze to Trip, looking embarrassed and regretful.

"It says... Charles Tucker the Third... Not Trip."

The American couldn't help but chuckle at the small joke, closing his eyes and suddenly feeling at piece. This was not the conversation he had had in mind but it would have to do. At least, he thought to himself as he squeezed his own wrist, he had found his soulmate. Died next to him, doing what they both loved.

That would have to be good enough for him.


	4. Soulmates

Malcolm first felt an awful headache before he was able to open his eyes. As he did, the blinding lights made him close them up immediately, biting his bottom lip and groaning deeply as he reached up, rubbing his face slowly, as if to feel if he was real or not.

"Rise and shine" he heard someone say next to him, eyes opening just slightly to see the blurry form standing to his right. "How are you feeling, Lieutenant?"

"Lights... too bright..." he complained, and the person whom he had not identified yet moved away, returning when the room was darker. He sighed in relief, opening his eyes a little more and finally being able to push the blurriness away to see the well known face of his doctor over him, scanning him. "Doctor..?"

"At your orders, mister Reed" Phlox said, smiling calmly at him and giving him an injection. The pain began to subside almost immediately, for Malcolm's delight, eyes closing. "You took a hell of a beating. I am glad to see you are awake."

"What... Trip?" he asked, eyes opening again, turning to look at the bed next to him and finding it empty. He returned his eyes to Phlox, who was still smiling.

"The commander was easier to heal than yourself, he has left sickbay a few hours ago. Now you will need a few more days to recover, although if I know you well enough, you will be back on duty the moment I allow you to leave."

"What happened?" Malcolm asked, now feeling a little better, but not daring to sit up. Phlox finished his last scan and placed the object down, focusing his whole attention on his patient.

"As for your health, you sustained heavy damage on your lower spine, nothing I couldn't fix although it will give you aches for a few weeks. You were lucky, any more stress to it and you could have lost your leg movement forever" Phlox said, as if he was speaking of the weather. Malcolm moved his legs and feet just to be safe, sighing when they moved accordingly. "As for the commander, he punctured a lung, but it wasn't as serious. Somehow, you both are very lucky."

"Yeah, maybe we are" Malcolm mumbled, closing his eyes and relaxing a little. The painkiller was making its effects marvelously, and he felt himself being pulled to sleep.

"One more thing, mister Reed. The commander wished to see you the moment you were awake. May I call him?" Phlox asked, but Malcolm was already too sleepy to really focus on his voice, giving him a nod and a hum before he drifted off to sleep, relaxed and out cold.

When he woke up again, now with way less pain and much more energy, he did not expect to have someone sitting down next to him, waiting. His eyes caught Trip's suddenly, and he remembered both his answer to the doctor and their talk before they passed out in the alien ship. Both did not make him any more comfortable: in fact, he wished he hadn't allowed the doctor to call Trip at all.

But now, well... there they were.

"Hey Mal" Trip started, the affectionate nickname doing nothing for Malcolm's nerves. He nodded in response, looking away. "Phlox told me you're better, that you'll be released from sickbay tomorrow. How are you feeling?"

"Just fine" he answered, dryly, truly wishing that if he was cold enough, Trip would forget this conversation and leave. "He told me you had nothing serious... how lucky."

"We both were" Trip responded, shifting his head, but Malcolm couldn't see to where since his eyes were focused on the wall next to him. He regretted being looking away immediately, as Trip's hand curled around his right wrist, and his heart jumped out of his chest as he quickly pulled his arm away. As if he was expecting it, Trip held tighter, and their eyes met, Trip's resolved and decisive, Malcolm's probably showing a shit ton of fear.

Something he would not have allowed himself to show, if he weren't in such a delicate condition.

"Let go" he muttered, tugging weakly on his arm. There was no way he was pulling away from Trip unless he allowed it though, and he didn't seem in the mood for letting go. Proving Malcolm's thoughts, Trip just squeezed his arm tighter, looking down at his wrist, Malcolm's heart leaping out of his chest. "Mister Tucker..."

"I don' understand why you're so afraid of a name" Trip said, tracing his own name on Malcolm's wrist, making his breath catch in his throat. He felt vulnerable, even worst, attacked, and he was pretty sure he had no polarizing or weaponry to divert the attention of the commanding officer in front of him.

"I am not afraid... of a name" he said, although his voice, shaking slightly, barely gave Trip argument for discussion. He cleared his throat, pushing away the uncertainty, and repeated himself. "I am not afraid of a name, commander."

There. Rank. Detachment. Trip looked at him, not at all pleased.

"That isn't what it looks like, _lieutenant_ " he responded, in kind, pulling Malcolm's wrist up and showing him the name on his skin in bright yellow colors. "Tell me why you are scared of it. Why are you scared of me?"

Malcolm felt a lump in his throat, but swallowed it down, eyes remaining on Trip. He was taught to be brave, and he would be.

"I am not scared of a name, and I am not scared of you, mister Tucker" he said, dryly. He pulled his arm away, now with more force, and Trip let him go, seeming to deflate right in front of him. His anger turned into sadness, but his resolve remained. "And this means nothing."

Trip stared at him, hurt, and looked down at his own wrist. At this distance, Malcolm could very well read his name in his own fancy handwriting from when he was a teenager, letters meticulously spaced and curled into perfect cursive, fiery red in contrast with Trip's white skin.

"My momma always told me red was a bad color. I never believed her" Trip whispered, tracing the name, before returning his eyes to Malcolm. The brit did not weaver. "I'm starting to."

"She was right" Malcolm replied, now not hiding the name on his own skin anymore. What was the point? The reason he hid it away was in front of him, and now he knew. It didn't matter anymore. "I am not easy. You should give up."

"Give up?" Trip snorted, a new fiery passion burning in his bright blue eyes. "Tuckers don't give up, no matter what. You may be a son of a bitch who hid this away from me for months and avoided me countless times, you may have a fiery red soul and deny me all you want, but I ain't gonna start giving up. That's not the Tucker way."

Malcolm looked away then, feeling defeated, and stared down at his wrist, knowing that he could carve his skin out and erase that name from existence and yet the universe would create countless ways for them to be reunited. That was what happened with soulmates. And the few that didn't work out, well, those were a vast minority. Taking a deep breath, he returned his glance to Trip, staring deep into his eyes.

"The Reeds don't have soulmates" he said, quietly, and Trip seemed to soften up. Maybe it was the universe's way of making them understand each other, but Malcolm felt like Trip was just a good listener, catching the silence meaning on all and every phrase that was said to him. His approach changed and he leaned away from Malcolm, looking away from him.

"What is it? What's the issue? Is it because it's me? Is it because I'm a guy? What's the problem?" he asked, quietly, and looked down at his wrist, unsure of himself. He did not give time for Malcolm to respond. "Ever since I was born I wished my mark would show up on day, that I would be paired with someone I was meant to spend my whole life with. I saw my mother and father being the happiest the could be, even through the worst fights. I saw my sisters getting their names, finding their soulmates a few years later, loving them unconditionally. The Tuckers' way. When I was a boy, I dreamt of a beautiful girl with bright blue eyes and shining golden hair, one I would marry and live a quiet life in the countryside with, surrounded by dogs and cows and pigs and children running through the yard. She was a scientist in my dreams, she brought intelligence and warmth into our home, and I was an engineer, but I also could be a stay-at-home dad if she wanted. I would love her and cherish her like my pah and mah, and it would be beautiful. But then one day, I woke up, and an unexpected name showed up in my arm. A British, masculine name. Malcolm Reed. And even though my dream meant nothing then, even if it came crashing down on me, I felt no less happy, because I got a name. The universe had chosen someone I would love and cherish all the same. And it took me over ten years to find you. Took me a lifetime of experiences, of dating and studying and working to reach where I am today, and end up in the same starship as you, only so we could meet. And then... well..." Trip sighed, closing his eyes, showing how hurt he truly was. "Then I met with someone that never spoke about his feelings, at any time. Someone who, in our first time almost dying together, decided to make letter after letter to ex girlfriends, even though he knew I was right there. I met someone who is the most emotionally repressed human I have ever met in my entire life... and I love him just the same..."

"Mister Tucker..." Malcolm tried, but Trip turned to face him, eyes piercing Malcolm's, making him shut up.

"I know what you will say. That I never showed interest. That I never made the first move. But how could I, Malcolm, you made a whole ass canyon between us! Every time I tried to approach you, every time I tried to talk feelings, you slithered away like a snake! A man gets tired, you know? Tired of being avoided, tired of loving without being loved in return! Because yes, it is ridiculous and I get that, but ever since I heard your name my heart leaps when I stare at you, and god damn it if that isn't enough! Some people think soulmates are overrated or whatever, that it is impossible that the universe would chose two perfect people for each other, but I know they are wrong because my family comes from a line of soulmates, and we are happy! We are complete! And I want that, Malcolm, I want that with you!"

"You love to talk about repressed emotions and soulmates in your family, it is almost as if you never listened to what I have told you. Reeds do not have soulmates, for at least ten generations we haven't had them! I never... expected to wake up one day with a name on my arm, the universe telling me who I was supposed to love!" Malcolm finally said, frustrated, pushing himself up into a sitting position mainly so they could be eye to eye and he would feel less vulnerable. "When I first got this... damned thing, I hid it away from everyone! When my sister found out, I made her promise she would never tell anyone! The Reeds do not care about soulmates or perfect pairings, we care about looks, we care about efficiency, we care about tradition, about presentation, about perfection! Nothing about this-" he stopped himself, his voice beginning to rise, something he didn't want. He took a deep breath through his nose and looked at Trip again, calmer. "Nothing about this is close to perfect. In fact, it is the complete opposite. Nothing about me is perfect to them. I chose against following the family tradition, becoming a Starfleet officer instead of a marine, and that was absurd enough for my father never to look at me the same way again. For us to never meet except extremely rare occasions. They never knew I had a soulmark, and they never will. And they would never, ever be happy to see me with... with another man."

There. He said it. All he had bottled up for months out of pure fear out, just because his drugged mind couldn't stand seeing Trip upset. Fact was, he too had become infatuated by the engineer ever since he heard his name on that first meeting. While before that encountered he had never understood what having soulmates really meant, by the moment he heard the words 'Charles Tucker the Third' leaving the captain's mouth that day, he understood it clearly. His heart had seemed to warm up from its icy caves and his whole body had reacted, pulling him towards Trip like a magnet. During the other months they spent together, it was as if all situations lead them to be close to one another, every touch and brush sent shivers up his body, he could not sleep without dreaming about him (whenever he was able to dream, that was). Having a soulmate, Malcolm realized, was much more intense that the books he had read lead on: it meant wishing to protect them, keep them out of harms' way at all costs, loving them, caring for them, being with them as long as possible. It was almost instinctive, it did not come from a place of reason, of logic, and perhaps was one of the strangest things the humans had to present to alien species.

Unconditional love, was what it felt like, and it wasn't easy to control the urges he had felt before. Now... well, it would become impossible.

By the time his own little internal monologue was over, Malcolm was able to focus on Trip again, on his face, on his reaction. His eyes were wide, unlike before, and they showed some sort of surprise and softness that Malcolm hadn't been expecting. Pressing his lips together and looking away, the American seemed to contemplate something in his own mind, uncertain about his next action. Malcolm looked at him, expecting something but unsure of what, before Trip looked back at him, the resolve once more in his eyes.

"I want to try" he said, firmly, and did not allow Malcolm to reply. "I know you have a lot to consider. I... understood, from what you told me, what you wanted me to understand. But I want to try, no matter how hard it will be. I have always dreamt of having my soulmate by my side, of loving them, of just... spending my life with them, and that soulmate is you Malcolm. Just like you cannot deny you family's nature, I can't deny mine. But you are different from them, you have a soulmate, you have a new family here in this ship... please. Give me a chance. Give me a chance to show you that maybe, having a soulmate isn't all that bad..."

Trip looked hopeful, unsure, and it was a look that at the same time didn't fit but was adorable on him. Malcolm felt, once again, his heart leaping from his chest, and despite his slight aches and his insecurities and how much his stomach was flipping inside his body, he found himself nodding slowly to the request.

"If you promise to keep this between us, for now..." he said, but was unable to finish the thought, two wide and strong arms circling him and pulling him for a hug. He gasped, in pain, and Trip pulled back with apologies all over his concerned face.

"I'm sorry I'm sorry Mal I didn't mean to-"

"It is quite alright, no harm done" he chuckled, feeling like the weight of the world had been lifted off his shoulders. He looked up at Trip, who was now staring at him and blushing, and the answer to Trip's silent question formed quickly in Malcolm's mind. Letting his grin die into a line, Malcolm gave the smallest of nods and closed his eyes, knowing he wasn't as brave to make this first step as Trip was. Luckily, his soulmate was eager with pretty much everything, and in a second their lips crashed together in a messy, quick kiss that almost failed to hit its target. Malcolm couldn't help but snort at it, before reaching up to hold Trip's cheek and turn his face to the side, pressing their lips firmer together, the American man squeaking quietly and seemingly melting against him.

It was like he had been expecting this for... months.

Malcolm laughed in his own head, to himself, and pressed further, teeth gently nibbling on Trip's bottom lip, seeking passage for a deeper touch. The engineer did not wait to comply, lips opening and tongue moving, both meeting in the middle in a strange, unsure, slow but desperate first kiss that had taken just too long to happen. Malcolm's hand slid down to Trip's neck, as Trip's came to rest on his waist, on the bed, gently pulling him closer without meaning to. This time, it did not hurt, and Malcolm used his free hand to push himself closer to Trip, sucking his bottom lip before pulling away from the kiss, breathless.

Both pressed their foreheads together, and Malcolm opened his eyes, seeing Trip's staring at him with nothing but delight and adoration glistening in those blue irises.

"You don' know how long I waited for this" Trip mumbled, making Malcolm chuckle and snort once again, shaking his head.

"I could guess at least a few months."

"Mah whole ass life" he whispered, making the brit unable to stop the blush on his cheeks. Trip smiled triumphantly, as if he had won a prize, and leaned in for another kiss, this one softer and faster.

"You are quite the charmer, mister Tucker."

"And you are a whole piece of an ass, mister Reed" he grinned, stealing another kiss from Malcolm and then chuckling, brushing their noses together affectionally. "But I would be damned if you're not my piece of ass."

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are appreciated!


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